Hide and Go Seek the Past
by Jenmm31
Summary: Sam has settled into a routine with his four-year-old daughter Emily after the death of his wife two years ago. He's enjoying the white picket fence life and occasional visit from his brother, Dean. But this particular visit takes a turn for the worse, putting his daughter in danger and forcing Sam to confront part of his past. AU, daughter-fic
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all you wonderful readers! Here is another installment of my beloved Emily (Sam's daughter). You can check out a few of my other one shots about Emily, but it's not necessary to read them in order to understand this story. However, it would help you pick up on a few nuances throughout this one :)**

 **Basic background knowledge: Sam fell in love and got out of hunting. He became a lawyer and started a family. However, his wife tragically died in a car crash when Emily was two years old. Since then, it's been just Sam and Emily, and with the help of Dean, they get through life.**

 **A VERY special thank you to Emma Winchester 424. She helped me through this story by taking on Dean's character. I wouldn't have been able to write any of this without her. Don't forget to thank her by checking out her epic Dean-daughter fic!**

 **Here we go! This is going to either be two or three parts, depending how I split up the next section. However, it's already written, so updates will be coming soon.**

 **Please drop me a line and let me know what you think of the story and Emily! I'll forever be grateful :)**

* * *

It wasn't a weekend like any other—it was a special weekend, at least for Emily Winchester. The rambunctious four-year-old was beyond thrilled that her Uncle Dean was here for one of his beloved visits. Dean was just as delighted, his inner child always coming out when they were together. And Sam, he was just as ecstatic, if not more than both of them. Because it meant he got to run errands without having a hyperactive little girl trying to sneak off and explore on her own. She was starting to be more curious about things lately. Sam loved having the teaching moment, but he also didn't waste any time slipping out after dinner to go grocery shopping alone.

Dean and Emily were in the living room watching a cartoon, mellowing out after a big meal. The princess cartoon they were watching wanted to make Dean hurl, but he kept sipping on his beer to keep the bile down. He settled for mocking the childish cartoon in his head relentlessly. However, every few seconds he noticed Emily scoot a little closer to him from her spot on the other end of the couch as she tried to be as sly as a four-year-old could be. Finally, she made it right beside him, Dean's indication that her cartoon watching attention span was over and she was ready to play again. She looked up at him and her brow furrowed, like she was trying to think of something to say, and then she just blurted out the first thing that came to mind when she spotted the bottle in his hand. "I have a drink?"

He looked down on her with a smirk. "Sure, kid. Knock yourself out." He playfully gestured to her with his beer bottle. "Or did you want your own beer?"

Her eyes lit up with momentary excitement. This response was definitely different than the one she'd gotten from her dad before. "My own, please." Because any chance to do something just like her favorite Uncle Dean, she soaked up the opportunity gleefully.

Dean snorted a laugh. "Yeah, and I'd like to live through the night rather than have your dad kill me." He got up from the couch, careful to take his beer with him. He talked to Emily over his shoulder as he headed towards the fridge. "So. What'll it be? Water, or knowing your dad, some sugar free juice that tastes worse than water?"

She eagerly got up and trailed behind him like a small shadow. "But you say I could have a drink like you." She pointed to the beer in his hand even though his back was to her. She threw on a pouty face for good measure.

Dean turned around with a chuckle. "Tell you what. When you're sixteen, I'll hook you up. But not tonight. So what do you want?" He pulled open the fridge and squinted at its disgusting produce contents. It was…it was so _colorful_. Barf.

When Dean didn't show any sign of caving, she replied with a pout. "Fine…I want apple juice, please."

He leaned down in her face and poked her pouting lower lip. Then he grabbed an apple juice box and jabbed the straw in. "Here you go. Go easy on these. Pace yourself." He grinned as his own humor because he was freaking hilarious.

She smiled and between slurps replied, "What do you wanna play now, Uncle De?"

"Play? Ahhhhhhh...well we could...daaaa...huh." Because his creative mind of games had long went out the door when Sam was a kid and he honestly had no idea what a four-year-old girl would want to play. It changed every time he was here, so he could never keep up with the "new" games. There was a pause before he finally asked, "What do _you_ want to play?"

Emily sipped her juice for a second while she thought it over. This was an important question and she needed just the right answer. Finally, she replied, "We...should play... zombies!" Cringe-worthy for Sam, this had become quite the rage to play at pre-school for no apparent reason other than they were kids who made up silly games.

Dean stuttered for a second, but recovered. "Zombies, huh? Okay then. So how do we play zombies?" The only way he knew to play zombies was to stake them to their coffin, which clearly was not child's play.

With one almighty swig, she finished her juice box and tossed it on the counter. "Well one person is the zombie and has to chase the other person around and catch them so they can be a zombie, too!" It was basically the latest version of creative tag.

"Oh. Okay, sounds cool. So who's the zombie first? You or me?" He actually thought this game was brilliant—she was going to run herself out and be ready to relax in no time. He could totally keep up with this little girl. He didn't understand what Sam was always complaining about, little kids having so much energy. Pssh.

"Imma Zombie. I'll get you." She took off at full speed to the couch, where she stood up on it and held her hands up like she was about to attack.

Dean placed his beer up high on top of the fridge where he knew she'd never be able to reach it. He turned to her, a pretend scared face on. "Aaahhhhh! Oh no! A zombie's gonna get me!" He darted away into the hall with a grin, just to see what she was going to do.

Without a second thought, Emily jumped off the couch and chased after him as they did laps around the house. In between laughter, she managed to get out some random growls that, in her mind, were clearly zombie noises.

But her zombie sounds just made Dean laugh. In one move, he darted behind a wall and let out a theatrical whoosh of breath. "Oh man, I sure hope that zombie doesn't find where I'm hiding!" He chuckled softly to himself.

She instantly picked up on his voice and knew exactly where he was hiding. She roared a few times as she tiptoed up beside him, very slowly. Then finally she jumped out in front of him and tackled his legs. "Imma eat your brains!" Cue strange munching noises as she pretended to gnaw on the hem of his shirt.

Dean out right laughed. "Brains are in your head, kid. You're eating the wrong vital organ."

Suddenly, she completely broke character and her normal, innocent face was back on. She held her arms up at him, signaling that she wanted to be picked up. He was a bit surprised at her sudden change of attitude, but he picked her up anyway. He didn't mind some extra closeness with her. Not that anyone needed to know. "What's the matter? Zombie run out of energy?"

She was pleased that he did as instructed. Once she was placed on his hip, she held up her hands again and announced, "Now zombie can eat your brains!" She reached out and practically tickled his hair with her fingers while making munching noises.

After a slew of "death" noises, he suddenly stopped. "Well, zombie is going to starve, because I have no brains! I'll eat yours instead!" He started making identical chomping sounds in her ear. "YUM. Zombie brains. All fresh and bloody- just like I like 'em."

The gnawing elicited another round of giggles from her. She struggled to fight against her laughter to yell out. "Daddy, save me!" But Sam was nowhere to be found, still taking his grand old time at the store.

In a deep ominous tone, he taunted, "There's no one to hear you scream." He took off running around the house with her in his arms, still pretending to chomp away at her brains.

She squealed with a mixture of delight and fake horror. "You can't eat meeeee! I'm your favorite!" It was true, it was the same reasoning Dean often repeated. When Sam demanded to know why Dean gave her ice cream or let her stay up past bedtime—his snarky response? _Because she's my favorite_.

Dean suddenly stopped eating his meal. "Ah, the kid found my kryptonite." He placed her back down on the ground. "You _are_ my favorite."

She wrapped her arms tightly around his leg and stepped onto his boots, wanting him to walk with her hanging on. "It's your turn to pick what we play!"

"Hm..." He started taking big exaggerated steps around the room, essentially causing her to swing through the air while she was clinging to his leg. "I..." Big step. "Just..." Big step. "Don't..." Big step. "Know..." Big step.

Her amusing squeals fill the air with each movement. "We should play hide and seek!"

"Um, okay. You hide, and I'll go count, okay?" Because every adult loved to count in this game—it meant a break.

She instantly let go of his leg and scrambled off, happy that he let her hide first as that was the only part of the game she enjoyed. She ran upstairs without much thought to how her pounding footsteps gave away her location. Her mind quickly sorted through the small list of favorite hiding spots and she opted for the same place as always...under Sam's bed.

"I'm counting! One..." He went to the kitchen to retrieve his beer. "Two…" He made his way into the living room. "Three..." He sprawled out on the couch, taking a long pull before continuing to count.

She was practically squirming with excitement. After a few seconds, her impatient side showed and she called out with a taunting laugh. "Uuunnncle Deeeeeeeeeeeeannnnnn."

He grinned. He knew from the direction of her voice that she was in Sam's room. He called back, "Not done counting yet! Keep hiding!" He took another swig, almost polishing off his beer.

Emily couldn't stop smiling as she impatiently waited. She teased, "You'll never find meeeee!"

After one final swig to finish it off, he left the empty bottle on the end table. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." He walked up the stairs into Sam's room on the right. He paused and looked around aimlessly. "Huh. I guess Emily's not in here..." He went totally silent and didn't move, just waiting for her to reveal herself like she always did.

His "inability" to find her elicits a giggle as she clamped her hand over her mouth to try and muffle it.

However, with his hunter's hearing, he knew exactly where she was hiding. He silently crept over to the bed and leaned down to have a look. When she realized he was on to her, she scooted back more to get away from the edge of the bed, but that caused her feet to stick out on the other side.

Of course, Dean saw those little feet appear. He silently stood back up and walked around towards them. He leaned down, suddenly grabbed them, and pulled her out from under the bed. She was dangling by her feet in the air. Dean leaned in really close to her face, and with a smug smile said, "Got you."

Her arms fell down toward the floor and she was totally enjoying being upside down. "You're good at hide and seek! Daddy couldn't find me for a really really really long time." However, that was a far from the truth as possible because like Dean, Sam knew exactly where she was, he just took even longer to find her since he was trying to get work done before he looked for her.

"Well, we all know your daddy is a loser," he commented with a chuckle. Then he swung her up and dropped her down on Sam's bed. Just then a wonderful idea occurred to him. "Hey, kid. You know how to tie your shoes yet?"

"Kinda! Daddy has been teaching me but I can't do it all by myself." They'd been practicing in the mornings, but she had trouble getting the double loop right.

"Then we're going to practice." Dean walked over to Sam's closet and opened the door. Of course Sam had all of his shoes lined up perfectly and neatly. Dean groaned in annoyance but then his evil smirk appeared. "C'mere. Let's practice tying by working on your dad's shoes." He said it really brightly so she'd get excited.

Emily jumped off the bed with extra pep. "We help Daddy!" Because this sounded like doing her dad a favor, which she loved. She always wanted to be helpful.

"Exactly! Come on." Dean beckoned her over, almost giddy with glee at getting his niece to help him pull a prank on his brother. It had been too long since the last one. He had to help raise this kid right. "Alright, Em. You pick which shoes we start with."

She stared long and hard at the rack of shoes before picking up a pair of black dress shoes. "These are Daddy's favorites! He wears them to work every day." She held them up for Dean to see.

He rubbed his hands together mischievously "Great, now, show me how you tie shoes. Tie this one." He pulled one string from one shoe. "To this one." He pulled another string from the other shoe. "Go nuts."

The little girl sat down on the floor and held one string in each hand, staring at them for a moment before she returned her gaze to her uncle. "But these strings don't go together...do they?" She knew Uncle Dean wouldn't lie to her, so she was torn because it didn't make sense.

"Well, no, not usually. But we're practicing, so it's okay to do it this way. Here- I'll do one too." He grabbed a pair of mismatched shoes and took a seat on the floor in front of her. He started tying his strings, extra slowly for her to watch.

She studied his motions and then nodded, seeming to just accept his answer that it was okay. Her tongue pressed into her cheek, a sure sign she was very focused as she began to tie the laces.

He studied her moves intently as he continued to slowly tie as well, not needing to look at his own work. "You got this, Em," he encouraged.

She paused every few seconds to observe Dean and then tried to mimic his actions, wanting to get it just right since he was watching. Finally, she finished and only one of the 'bunny ears' was pulled out of the loop. "Look! I did a good job." She was very proud that she at least got one bunny ear to stick in the end. Her smile was from ear to ear. "I can't wait to tell Daddy we helped him."

As soon as she mentioned spilling the beans, he held up his hand. "Hold on there, little one. We don't tell your dad about this. Got it?"

Her innocent blue eyes looked back at him. "But why? I wanna tell Daddy. He be happy."

"But if we tell him, then it won't be a surprise. And we want it to be a cool surprise, don't we?" He persuaded with a nod and a smile, hoping she'd take the bait.

She clapped her hands together. "Daddy loves surprises!" That was a total lie, but Sam always tried to fake enjoyment when Emily would surprise him with things, from a worm in a cup to making him breakfast (untoasted bread and a kid's yogurt).

"Exactly! I know just how much your dad loves surprises. So we don't want to ruin this one for him, right? Let's make sure we get all the shoes, okay?"

"Okie dokie!" She dove into the closet and pulled out the remaining pairs of shoes that had laces, ready to get busy.

After more than five minutes of focused silence, Emily heard something outside. She stopped mid-tie and rushed over to the window. "Daddy's home!" she declared with excitement.

In one swift movement, Dean tossed the tied-together shoes in the closet, scooped up Emily, and ran down the stairs. He slammed into the couch and turned the TV on, making sure to keep Emily in his lap. He looked down at her earnestly. "Keep your lips zipped, got it?"

She mimicked closing an imaginary zipper across her lips, but it only lasted a few seconds because then she whispered in his ear. "I promise I won't tell."

There was some jingling at the door as Sam shoved the key in it, trying to balance the grocery bags at the same time. Finally, he managed to get it open and stumble inside. At seeing them sitting on the couch, doing nothing, he remarked, "Really, Dean? You couldn't help open the door?"

Emily perked up at seeing her dad, but Dean's grip on her kept her from running over to him. "Hi Daddy, we're watching TV!"

Sam grumbled, knowing that this was what Dean was going to do. "I can see that." But he couldn't complain too much; free babysitting was free babysitting.

"Alright, squirt, the Killjoy Kid has entered the room. You watch TV while I go bother your dad." He set her next to him on the couch and stood up. Before he left, he turned back to her and asked loudly enough for Sam to hear from the kitchen, "You want another beer?"

Sam did a slow turn to glare at his brother.

Emily chimed in to defend her uncle. She bounced over to the entryway of the kitchen. "It's okay, Daddy. He didn't really do it. He said I gots to wait till I'm _sixteen_."

Cue the pursed lips and bitch face from Sam. "Dean, I swear if you—"

"Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm just teasing her." When Sam's back was turned again, he glanced at Emily and mimed zipping her lips. She nodded in blissful understanding.

Sam started putting away groceries while Emily jumped up into a seat and watched. Sam asked over his shoulder, "So what did you two do? Anything besides watch TV?"

"We played zombies!"

Sam commented like he'd done time and time again, "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah! I tried to make Uncle De a zombie, but he eated me first."

"He _ate_ you, did he?" Sam repeated correctly in his obsession with mirroring proper grammar, because that was just how he was.

But that didn't deter Dean from jumping in, "Oh yeah. I EATED her brains." He grinned cheekily at Sam, and Emily was none the wiser to their playfulness. "Right after I gave her beer. Her brains were still carbonated. They were delicious." He poked Emily in the side, trying to make her giggle.

And of course that made her laugh. Sam just threw Dean another displeased look, but deep down he knew Dean wouldn't actually give her beer-not at this age at least. "Well I hope you can grow some of your brain back for pre-school on Monday."

Emily giggled. "I'll eat more carrots tomorrow to help!"

Sam gave her an approving smile, while Dean made an exaggerated gagging noise upon hearing the word "vegetables" but he stopped when he saw Sam giving him the Stink Eye. Shrugging it off, he wandered over towards the bags of groceries and started pawing through them. "Where's the pie? Tell me you got pie."

Sam turned back to Emily. "Well I don't know if you deserve any pie. What do you think, peanut? Did Uncle Dean behave?"

Em nodded her head fervently and threw her arms up in the air. "Yes! He was extra good, Daddy. We did lots of goooooood things!" She grinned at them both, practically squirming with excitement to spill just how great they really were.

Dean turned to Sam with a smirk. "See? _Extra_ good." He grinned triumphantly, then started pawing through the bags again, looking for the pie. He pulled out a bag of organic carrot sticks, made a gagging noise, then tossed them at Sam. "Ugh. Sammy, when are you going to learn that man cannot live by carrot sticks alone?" He went rooting through the bags again.

Sam grinned at Dean hopelessly searching through the bags. "You won't be able to find what's not there." He turned to Emily. "I don't think Uncle Dean has earned his gift yet." He winked. "So did you guys do anything educational while I was gone or just lose IQ points by watching cartoons and eating each other's brains?"

Emily bit her lips together because she wanted to tell him how they practiced tying shoes and Dean could see the struggle, but Sam picked up on it first. "What, Em? What's going on?" He hated surprises and he recognized her "I know something and I want to tell you so badly" face.

Dean whipped around towards his niece at lightning speed. "Hey kiddo, bet you can't guess what I may or may not have brought you." He bobbed his eyebrows at her playfully. He always brought her gift, and he hadn't had a chance to give it to her yet. He was praying the "guessing game" would distract her from wanting to tell Sam about the shoes. He didn't want to have to listen to his brother bitch and moan about what they'd done in person. He was much easier to handle over the phone when he could make mocking faces back at him or just turn up the radio and not listen to him.

Thankfully, his plan worked like a charm on the four year old. Her eyes lit up and she propped herself up on her knees in the chair, leaning against the table. "Ice cream?!" Sam didn't even miss a beat and shot Dean the death stare as if to say "don't you remember the last time you gave her ice cream this late in the evening?!"

Dean gave Sam a patronizing glare back. "Yeah. I packed ice cream in my bag and it's been sitting in there melting the whole time." He rolled his eyes, then turned back to Emily. "Bet you can't find it. I don't even know if I remembered to bring it." He was teasing her, trying to get her to leave the room.

The little one got extra excited and stood up on her chair but after a stern glance from her dad, she crouched back down, still equally excited. "Did you hide it? I bet you bringed it just for me!" She hopped off the chair and walked right up to him. "Where should I look?" She was clearly thrilled.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Who said I brought _you_ something?" He grinned tauntingly at her.

She tugged on his shirt in excitement. "But you always do! Cuz I'm your favorite, 'member?" Sam just watched in amusement as he finished putting the groceries away, happy that she seemed to be entertained.

"Oh, that's right. That's how I know you. Well, only one way to find out if I brought you something or not. Go seek the treasure, kid." He poked her in the nose, playfully.

He didn't have to say it twice. In a flash, she took off into the other room, prepared to search high and low for her gift. Sam just shook his head with a smile. "So what is it this time?"

Dean shrugged casually. "Drum kit. Extra cymbals. Sub-woofer amp."

Emily was still tearing through the house, looking inside every cabinet she could reach and under everything, trying to find the gift that she thought her uncle hid around the house. Meanwhile, Sam just rolled his eyes, knowing that Dean knew better than to go down the road of noisy gifts _again_. The eldest Winchester opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, passing one to him before he took a seat at the table.

Sam grabbed the beer, happy for some adult conversation. After taking a swig, he said thankfully, "Well that scavenger hunt of yours should keep her entertained for a while at least."

Dean looked over his shoulder towards the direction of delighted squeaks and pattering feet. "Let's hope so. Man, she wears me out." The grin on his face said that he really didn't mind, but Sam could relate to the feeling. He tossed his bottle cap on the table. "So. How goes the white picket fence life?"

Sam took a long swig of his beer. "It's going great. Job's going fine, Emily's happy at pre-school, I got you here to entertain her this weekend. What else could I ask for?" He smirked.

Dean smirked. "Don't think you can pawn the kid off on me, man. What do I look like- a babysitting service?" He threw Sam a sideways grin. "'Course, I could always expand her vocabulary..."

Sam just rolled his eyes, already used to his big brother's taunting. "Don't act like you don't enjoy watching cartoons and playing child games all day." Even though Dean may be getting older, Sam was still fully aware of his inner child. "Just remember this...you 'expand' her vocabulary and she gets her mouth washed out with soap. Do you really want to hurt your niece like that?" His eyebrows rose as he sipped his beer, thinking he caught him.

"Hey- YOU'RE the one washing her mouth out, not me. I am simply helping her to speak the rest of the way the real world does. Like I do! And I'm a fucking bad ass." He said it just loud enough for Sam to panic that Emily _might_ have heard it.

But Emily was too lost in her own game of seek to hear what was going on in the kitchen. Sam threw on a bitch face and then picked up a nearby apple. "Knock it off, Dean! I don't need you corrupting my innocent _four_ year old." He launched the apple at his head, hard enough to show he meant it, but easy enough that he knew Dean would catch it.

He did catch it, and without missing a beat, turned and winged it back at Sam, who caught it. "Glad to see you ain't getting rusty, kiddo. You ever go out onto the gun range or anything? Just see how bad your aim has gotten?" It was his brotherly duty to keep poking fun at him, but he was also honestly curious.

Sam shrugged as he took another sip. "I told you I gave up that life, Dean. I have no need to go target practicing." He would keep fighting as long as he could to protect Emily from anything and everything that had to do with his previous life.

"Whatever." He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table. "You can't tell me that sitting in a dusty old office surrounded by boring-as-crap books is more fun that shooting a gun. It's just not possible."

"I'd rather read a boring book than be out there shooting any day, Dean." It was a statement that held true for his entire life. Before Dean had a chance to remark on it, Emily popped back into the kitchen and stomped over to the eldest, tugging on his jeans.

"I can't find it. Tell me. I want my gift!"

But Sam wasn't about to let a spoiled brat attitude form. There was warning in his tone. "Emily."

Her innocent blue eyes looked at him then back to Dean. "Tell me where my gift is," she stole a glance with her dad again to show she was listening, " _pleeeeeeease."_

"Where's the fun in that? You giving up so easily?"

"But, Uncle Dean, I looked _everywhere_!" She stretched out her hands from side to side to help make her point, even though she only looked in half the house.

"Alright, kiddo. No need to dislocate your arms. Go check my bag, you may find something there. Or you may not. Who knows." There was totally a plastic tyrannosaurus that roared in his backpack that he got just for her.

Emily didn't wait another second and rushed off into the living room where her uncle's bag was resting against the couch. However, there was something strange that caught her eye hidden back behind the coffee table that was beside the couch, the bag almost hidden from sight. It was a dark green duffle bag—something new to her. At first she was conflicted about which one to open...the backpack or the other, more mysterious looking bag that she had never opened before. It took her all of about half a second to opt for the mysterious one, like any curious little child would.

Meanwhile in the other room, Sam returned to his normal, adult conversation now. "So what was the creature of the week this time?"

Dean shook his head and took another swig of beer. "Rogarou. Nasty bastard, too. Took three people down before I could stop him. But you know me. Ain't gonna rest until every son of a bitch is six feet under." He saluted Sam with his bottle.

"Well I wouldn't expect any less of you." He saluted him back with his own.

Meanwhile, Emily had discovered the gems locked away inside the mystery bag. She first pulled out a necklace and was immediately mesmerized by it. It was so long and had a wooden cross on the end. It was perfect for dress up! She put it around her neck and when she stood up, it would no doubt hang down to her waist, but she was loving it. So she dug for more. Next up was a big bottle of salt, which she found strange, because why would Uncle Dean need to eat so much salt? Yuck. Daddy always said you only needed a pinch of salt.

As she continued to look around, she spotted a rugged knife with weird writing on it. She ran her fingers over the smooth metal. She wanted to pick it up, but it looked very sharp and she knew better than to touch sharp things. That was how you got ouchies. The knife aside, she picked through the other things and eventually came upon something shiny that instantly had her attention. Only this time she had no idea what the object was: it had a handle, a nozzle, and an empty bullet chamber. It was Dean's unloaded handgun. She gently picked it up, surprised by the weight. She had to wrap both hands around it. Staring at it for a moment, she thought maybe she had seen something like it before on TV. Her curious mind wanted to know the name of the mystery object. She hopped up and took the gun into the kitchen with her necklace dangling around her as she walked. Stopping in entryway, she gripped onto the nozzle instead of the handle, so the was pointing directly at her.

She interrupted the brothers' conversation and asked innocently, "Uncle De, what's this?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, messages, and following/favoriting this story! I'm glad you like Emily as much as I do!**

 **Emma Winchester 424 rocks for helping me write Dean in this story, so be sure to give her some love, too! Check our her awesome stories!**

 **Here's Part 2 of 3...Brace yourselves for some feels and intense moments :)**

 **Please drop me a line and let me know what you think so far...it makes my day! ENJOY!**

* * *

If there had ever been a moment in his life where time literally froze, it was now. Sam's body went weak as he saw his harmless, innocent daughter holding such a vile object that sparked a whole title wave of memories for him. He was completely unable to move or speak a his heart literally stopped for a moment.

Lucky for him, Dean internal panic turned into swift action. Dean sprung up and yanked the gun out of her hands, then immediately clicked the safety on, even though he already knew it wasn't loaded. "EMILY! What the hell?! What are you doing with this?!" he roared as he shook the gun in front of her. There was a mixture of sheer fear, panic, and anger coursing through his veins.

By the time Dean had managed to speak, Sam had only been able to jump out of his seat and move over by them. His hunting reflexes were clearly years out of practice as he let the shock get the best of him.

Speaking of shockwaves, Emily was currently in the same state. Uncle Dean _never_ yelled at her. He never even got frustrated with her...and now he was yelling and roughly grabbing things from her. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked to her dad for help and an explanation.

Finally seeing her eyes, Sam knelt down beside her and grabbed onto her hand where she'd had the gun. "Emily Marie, where did you get that?!" He quickly glanced back at the gun in Dean's hand, just to be sure it wasn't his own that was secretly locked deep, deep away.

Emily stared at her dad's death grip on her for a moment before looking him in the eye. "I-I was looking for my gift from Uncle DeDe. He said it was in his bag." Her bottom lip quivered as tears still threatened to spill over.

Sam whipped his head around so fast it surely would have given him whiplash in any other circumstance. He glared at Dean, fire behind his eyes.

Dean ignored Sam's death glare for a second, wanting to hear it from the kid first. "Wait. Em- which bag did you look in?" He just realized she had the rosary around his neck—he knew which bag she got into. There hadn't been a chance he'd left the gun in his clothes backpack. He immediately began scanning her body. He had knives in that bag, so he immediately looked at her hands for cuts.

Sam's heart literally hit the floor when he realized what was going on, too.

"It was a green bag. I just wanna find my toy but I finded this stuff." She tried to point to her necklace, but Sam was too busy examining her hands extra thoroughly to let them go. Emily stared at her dad again, noticing that he was not happy with her either, instantly picking up on his fire eyes. "I didn't touch the knife, Daddy. It was sharp." Maybe if she told Dad that, he would be proud of her and not mad.

And it half worked. Sam suddenly felt relieved that she hadn't almost cut herself...maybe she did listen to him once in a while about staying away from sharp objects. His angry tone only softened for a brief moment. "Good, I'm glad you didn't. But—"

Emily's watery blue eyes cut him off as she quickly turned to her uncle and asked, "Was I bad, Uncle De?" She couldn't take him being mad at her, not now, not _ever_.

Dean closed his eyes, trying to calm down. Between the panic and the guilt, he felt like shit, but he was trying not to take that out on his little niece. However, he was not used to talking to young kids, and he was really flying by the seat of his pants here. He got right down at eye level with her, next to Sam. "Look, Em- just...just don't go in that bag again, okay? I know you were looking for your present, but don't go in Uncle Dean's _green_ bag anymore. Got it? There's stuff in there that...I just don't want you to get hurt, so you listen to what I'm saying. Tell me you're not going to go in that bag again." He fixed her with The Eye, being a little more intense in his speech than he realized.

Emily instantly picked up on the sternness behind her uncle's words and with the glare that he was giving her, she gulped, hating that he was upset with her. "I...I won't do it again. I promise."

Sam squeezed her wrist again to grab her attention as he had to throw in his two cents on the matter. The fear in his blood was still pumping hard through his veins at seeing a gun in his daughter's hand. "You listen to your uncle. Don't you _EVER_ get into that bag again or you'll be sorry, Emily Marie. Do I make myself clear, young lady?" His tone was so harsh that it almost reminded Dean of _their_ father. Emily's bottom lip quivered at the scolding because she knew the threat behind her dad's words.

"I won't, Daddy...I ...I didn't mean to touch it."

Dean's blood turned to ice at hearing John's tone come out of Sam's mouth. He wasn't sure what to do. His gut wanted him to jump to Emily's defense, but his heart wouldn't let him interfere with Sam's parenting. Besides, he wasn't around enough to really feel like he had any jurisdiction around here. He opened his mouth, but then shut it again, feeling useless and stupid. His eyes darted back and forth between father and daughter.

Sam's blood was continuing to boil fast as the situation just kept becoming more real before his eyes as he was able to continually process it. However, the more he processed it, the angrier he got. He stood up, towering over her, and the words just poured out of him without second thought. "Emily, that's a gun! Dean has...he has all kinds of things in that bag. You _know_ better than to touch those kinds of things. Guns are dangerous...they kill people, Emily. You could have hurt one of us." Cue the tears that poured over her eyelids at all the yelling. "Or worse, you could have hurt yourself!" As he finished, Sam's heart was now racing and his mind was nowhere near rational thought anymore. "Now take off that damn rosary and go to your room!" More tears escaped as her eyes went wide. Daddy rarely said bad words and if he did, it was never directed at her. She was instantly scared into submission, but had no idea what he actually wanted her to take off. Her scared eyes quickly look to Dean for help.

Dean's jaw hit the floor. He knew his brother well enough to know that Sam wasn't in full control of his mouth right now, and he was going to regret what he just said. So he did the typical Dean thing- he took charge. He put one hand on Sam's chest with a slight amount of pressure. It wasn't even enough to move Sam but rather just enough to get his attention. He looked directly into his eyes. "Hey. HEY. Sammy. Calm down. Now."

Under any other circumstances, his moves might have worked on Sam, but at this point, all he could see was pure rage for his brother as he felt his legs tremble from fury. His _brother_ was the reason his unknowing daughter found weapons in the first place. She had waltzed into the kitchen as if his past were mocking him for his life decisions. He looked Dean in the eye for a moment, as if contemplating what he was going to say, but his only response was smacking his brother's hand away from his chest. When he turned his attention back to Emily, he saw the rosary is still around her neck and he lost it. "I said take it off!" he snapped.

Emily jumped back a step at his voice and she finally noticed her dad staring at the necklace. Without saying a word, she took it off and handed it out for Dean to grab. Her chin was quivering and she didn't know what to say, but Sam did. His voice was low and he growled, "Go to your room right now." Their eyes locked for a moment and then she glanced over to Dean, silently begging for help or for him to tell her what to do.

After Sam shoved his hand away, the old anger flared back up in Dean. He saw his niece about to break down sobbing, not knowing what she did, or what to do, and he knew he had to get her out of here before Sam went completely ape shit. He picked her up and directed his next gentle words right at her, almost like Sam wasn't in the room. "Hey kiddo- let's go upstairs for a minute, okay? Your dad needs a second to breathe. Come on." Without a glance at Sam, he turned on his heel, Emily in his arms. He dropped the rosary on the table with unnecessary force to make a point as he passed by. He swiftly took her up the stairs and into her room. He sat down on the bed, but kept her in his lap. "Alright, kid, I need you to stay up here for a while, okay? You can do that for your favorite uncle, right?"

She soaked up the moment of affection at sitting on his lap after going through what just happened in the kitchen. She leaned her body into his, getting closer. "But you and Daddy are mad at me." She hated being left alone when she knew someone was mad at her. What had happened downstairs was awful and she wasn't sure how it was going to turn out. In the few times that Sam had sent her to her room, it had been unbearable for her to think about her dad being angry at her, which was why Sam knew it was an effective punishment when deserved. She rested her head against his chest. "I'm sorry Uncle Dean," she sniffled as a few more tears escaped; she just knew she had to apologize.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sam was literally pacing back and forth in the kitchen as he waited for Dean to come back. He had managed to calm himself down a fraction, but then he saw the gun and rosary on the table and all hell broke loose again.

* * *

When Dean noticed the tears soaking the front of his shirt, he felt all the feels: panic, heartache, anger at Sam, affection towards Em, and an overwhelming feeling of not knowing what to do. He hugged her quickly, but then pulled her away so she could see him. "Hey, it's okay. You didn't know. But just stay out of that bag in the future, okay? It's for super cool uncles only." He poked her tummy, desperate to get a smile from her.

The poking only elicited a small smile. She quietly nodded and grabbed onto the finger that was poking her tummy and flipped it over, tracing the lines on his palm as she sniffled.

Dean's heart cracked at not getting the giggle he needed, but he was going to stick this out with the kid. He watched her finger tracing the lines on his palms. "Everything is going to be okay, kiddo."

But the words seemed to bounce right off her. She stopped tracing his palm and looked up at him with watery eyes. "I won't be bad anymore, okay? Will you tell Daddy?"

* * *

Sam was still reeling from what happened, especially because Dean still hadn't appeared. He marched into the living room and grabbed Dean's opened duffle bag, bringing it back and slamming it on the table. He began to search through it as his breath hitched with each weapon he found in there that could have hurt his little girl.

* * *

"Hey- you weren't bad. You didn't know. But don't do it again, okay? 'Cause then you'd be bad. And I would pretty much have to hang you upside down by your pinky toes in the tree out front for punishment," he said it with a grin that lets her know he was just teasing.

She let out a tiny laugh at picturing her imminent doom. "I won't do it again, Uncle DeDe. Promise."

And Dean didn't have the heart to remind her that he'd banned her embarrassing "DeDe" nickname a few months ago.

* * *

By now, Sam had all of the weapons spread out on the table...salt, demon knife, pocket knife, the bullet case for the unloaded gun, everything. And he actually felt sick to his stomach, like he would either throw up or his legs would give out at any second. Then one word escaped his lips without warning—and it came out loud. " _DEAN_!"

* * *

Upon hearing his name, Dean gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath, gave Emily a quick peck on the temple, and set her down on her bed. "Okay. So you stay here, got it? Your dad and I are...going to talk." He pointed a finger in her face, and poked her right in the nose, leaving his finger there, no matter how much she squirmed to get away from it. "Stay put." He dropped one more kiss on the top of her head, then exited her room.

Emily watched as Dean closed the door and she felt her heart drop. She was all alone again, and remembering her father's angry voice made the tears reappear. She just wanted everything to be okay again. She wanted her daddy back.

* * *

He made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. His eyes went wide, then annoyed, at seeing all his gear spread out over the table. He looked nonchalantly at Sam and pointed to the weapons. " _You're_ cleaning all that up when we're done here."

But Sam saw red instantly when Dean entered. His vision was consumed by the blaze he felt toward his brother. He walked up and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling Dean close to his face. If eyes could shoot lasers, Dean would be in pieces. "Why would you bring that stuff into MY HOUSE?!"

Dean was taken aback completely at Sam's violent response. He grabbed Sam's fist and dislodged it from his shirt, then shoved Sam away a bit with one hand. "Whoa. Slow down there, cowboy. Watch yourself. This is nothing new, Sammy."

Sam stumbled back a step back from Dean's shove and his eyes froze on him. "What do you mean 'this is nothing new'?!"

"I mean, this is the same bag I always bring in. I don't bring the bag of the big stuff- I'm not stupid." He spread his arms wide. "Okay. I shouldn't have let her go for her present without watching. That's on me."

And Sam suddenly wondered if he had really been oblivious to this for so many years. How had he never seen a freaking weapons bag in his house? Was his senses that out of date that it never even occurred to him that his brother brought such dangerous things into his home?! He felt bile creep up his throat.

"Yes, Dean, that's on YOU! You're lucky you've made it _years_ without her getting into that stuff. She could have cut herself on a fucking demon knife...or blew her head off! What were you thinking?!" The fire behind his eyes vanished for a second and Dean got a brief glimpse of the absolute fear.

"You think I brought a _loaded_ gun in here?! And forgive me for being a little paranoid, Samuel, but if something came after us while I was here in your house, you'd sure as hell be happy that I had a knife on me! This is how we operate man! Or...how we used to! I just have the basics in my duffle- everything else is still in the Impala. I would never, _ever_ bring that arsenal in here. And you don't freaking know that?!"

"We? _We?!_ We don't operate that way, Dean. I don't have a bag full of objects that could _kill_ my child. I don't know what to think anymore. I just saw my four-year-old daughter holding a fucking gun. Loaded or not, my child should _never_ hold a gun." He took a step closer and poked his brother's chest. "You did that. You put her in danger!"

The blood drained out of Dean's face at the accusation, only to be replaced with fury. "Maybe if you taught her what that crap is, instead of keeping your head in the sand and pretending that the whole first part of your life never happened, then maybe she would have known not to mess with it in the first place!"

Any form of calming down was instantly erased as his blood boiled over the top. A Winchester showdown was clearly happening.

"And what do you call this?" Sam motioned to the house around them. " _This_ isn't a hunter's life, Dean. I got out. I got out because I don't want my daughter to know the difference between a sawed off and a .45! I got out so she doesn't have to know about all the crap that's out there. And you just come in here and ruin that!"

"Great, Sam. So in addition to pretending that the first part of your life doesn't exist, you're gonna keep Emily away from one of the only remaining family members that you have left. Why don't you just lock her in Alcatraz and be done with it? That way, you can keep her from- I don't know- anything remotely resembling _family_."

Sam took a step forward and threw an accusing finger at him. "Don't you dare put words in my mouth! I not once said I was going to keep her away from you. I just want her away from the armory in you freaking bag! Away from knowing that what goes bump in the night actually exists. Why can't you get that?"

The eldest Winchester threw up his hands. "Fine! Fine, Sam. I'll keep pretending. I'll keep it all under wraps. Won't bring anything in the house, okay? I'll keep all my guns away from her. You happy now?"

"Yes, Dean I am. That's exactly what I want from you. But what is your freaking deal? You act like keeping guns and demons out of my kid's life is the worst possible thing. Do you _want_ her to grow up like we did?!"

Dean just shrugged casually, like he suddenly had the upper hand. "I'm just wondering when you're gonna stop being a hypocrite."

His suddenly relaxed demeanor made Sam want to shove him against the wall. He spat, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Dean's stoic expression didn't crack one iota. "I'm talking about that little thing you've got hidden in the drawer next to your bed."

Sam had been too blinded by his own anger to predict this. It clearly registered on his face that he knew exactly what Dean was talking about. He had two choices: admit it or deny and pray. Sam quickly recovered and muttered, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dean didn't buy it for a second. "Bullshit. You can lie to yourself all you want, Sammy. But don't you fucking lie to me. You know damn well what I'm talking about."

For a brief moment, he felt like the 13 year old he used to be, getting scolded by his brother for lying when they both knew Dean could see right through it all. He let out a deep breath and went on the defense. "That's not even the same thing! My gun is locked up so tight there's no way she'd get into it. _You_ just left everything lying on the living room floor, just inviting her to look. There's a BIG difference."

Dean gritted his teeth, but Sam had a point. "Fine- you're right. I'm...not used to having to watch stuff like that, okay? I'm not used to having a little kid around. That one is on me...and I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry. I mean it, Sam. But then you go acting like I'm the worst person in the world because I'm not willing to pretend that I don't know what's out there. Just because you want to make believe and pretend you're safe hiding behind your white picket fence...deep down, you still know. You can't ever UNKNOW what we've learned over the years. So don't go acting all high and mighty with me about my gun, because you have one for the same reason I do. And that's to protect the people we love."

The words silenced Sam for a few moments as he soaked in everything. "I just... I..." He was actually speechless for the first time. "I'm aware that I will never unknow everything we've seen or done. I still have nightmares from crap that happened a decade ago. But, Dean," his face actually softened, cracking, "She had a gun. She was holding a gun. And all I could see was myself when Dad first taught me to shoot. And I swore to myself, I swore…I swore to Sarah that she'd never know what that was like. After my mind snapped back into place, I realized how she could have hurt herself, Dean. Or worse..." He couldn't bring himself to say killed. "And I overreacted, okay? But if anything were ever to happen to Emily..." There was a long pause. "I just can't live with that."

And the turnabout was fair play. Dean suddenly saw things from Sam's perspective now. He could feel the bone chilling fear, the depth of despair if something were to happen to Emily. Dean knew and remembered all too well that horrifying moment when he found out Sarah and Emily had been in the car crash. He knew the hell that Sam waded through on that. And he suddenly realized that for Sam, seeing Emily with that gun in her hands was like standing on the edge of the pit of hell all over again. His breath squeezed out of his lungs in a single breath, enough to make him dizzy. He shook his head. "No, Sammy. You didn't overreact. I...god. I didn't even see it like that, man. I... I'm sorry, Sam. I fucked up. I would never..." He was about to say "put Emily in danger like that." But he did. He just fucking did. He began gathering his gear and stowing it in his duffle. "Look- I'll get this out, right now. I won't bring it in again, Sam, okay? I'll just..." He had no more words, so he just continued tossing his stuff in the bag, his back to Sam.

Sam stepped closer to Dean as he continued to pack everything up. "You don't have to take it out." Because he knew how much his brother wanted it here. "And I don't blame you. I..." He didn't know why, but he felt he needed to confess it to Dean, the one person in the entire world who might actually understand. "I, uh, every night before I go to sleep, I open up that lock box, just to make sure the gun's still in there, because every night my mind tells me that _'tonight could be the night.'_ That it could be the night all the bad crap I did, all the monsters after us, finally catch up and the treaty breaks. And if I don't see the gun, I can't sleep." He ran a hand down his face. "This is what our lives have come to. So, no, I can't blame you for bringing in that stuff. I just...I just wish I could protect her forever, you know?" He quickly wiped away the hot tears that came out before Dean could see, but it was of no use.

Dean could sense that his brother was in distress. It was an instinct that would never fade. "Hey." He turned and pulled Sam into a hug. He needed this just as much as Sam did right now. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy. Nothing's gonna happen, you hear me? Not on my watch. I've always got my ear to the ground here. I will always have your back. You deserve to live this life, Sam. Man, you've earned it. Em will be safe. She's got a boatload of people watching over her. And if someone wants to get to her, they're gonna have to go through us." He gently pulled Sam away and gave him a cocky grin. "And the Winchester brothers have never lost a fight yet. She's going to be okay."

Sam was too embarrassed to acknowledge that the affectionate hug made a few more tears escape. He quickly brushed them away as Dean looked at him. "Dean, I know...but maybe you're right. Maybe I shouldn't keep her sheltered from all of this. Because what if something _does_ come for us? What if I forget to lock up my gun and she gets to it, Dean? What if I'm doing this all wrong?" And just like that, he began to question every parenting decision he'd ever made.

Dean rolled his eyes, but in an affectionate, placating way. This was the typical little brother he knew. "Okay- first off- look at that kid. She's freaking cool as hell, man. That's all you. A little bit me, but mostly you." He grinned. "Second- I know you, Sammy. The stick is WAY too far up your ass for you to forget something like locking up your gun. And third..." He trailed off. This one was hard for him, but they needed to hash this out. He tried to lace his voice with sincerity so Sam understood that this really came from the heart, even though it pained him deep down in ways he didn't want to acknowledge. "...third- Emily's a lot like you. I mean, A LOT. And you always wanted to know what your life would have been like if you didn't know the truth about what's out there. So- here's your chance. She's your chance to find out."

Sam had to take a moment to let all of the words process. He smiled for a moment, but then it fell. Dean's words touched him as his brother was never that honest. "I just want to do what's best for her and some days I think keeping her in the dark is exactly what I should be doing...but then shit like this happens and I'm second guessing everything."

Dean put his hand around the back of Sam's head, just like he used to do when they were kids and Sam needed reassurance. He pulled him in so Sam was looking him dead in the eye. "You're totally doing the right thing, Sam. Okay? You know that? You are the best thing that could happen to that little kid. You are going to protect her, watch out for her, from everything there is in all creation. Nobody else has that, man. Nobody. She's one lucky kid."

Tears brimmed his eyes at those words...they touched his soul quite literally. He wanted so much to tell Dean that _he_ had that- he had someone who always looked out for him, protected him, kept him safe from it all. But neither of them were emotionally ready for that kind of confession tonight. So, he replied the only thing he could, "Thanks, Dean." If he said anything else, the tears might spill over even more. "She has one hell of an uncle, too."

"Fuck yeah, she does." He slapped Sam on the arm. After a moment, his face turned serious again. "Sammy- look. You need to know that I would never do anything to intentionally put her in danger. And I'm sorry, man. I'll be more careful, I swear I will." Dean would beat himself up for days about being so careless around the girl he most cared for.

"I know, Dean. If I actually thought you'd put her in danger, do you think I'd really leave you alone with her?" He added in a half smile for good measure. "It was an accident and really could have happened to either of us." He ran his hand along the back of his neck, knowing his next battle was coming. "Uh, how's she doing? I kind of lost it for a bit, didn't I?" His heart fell again as he thought about what his little girl must be going through after his reaction.

"Nah, man. Nothin' like how Dad used to lose it. You're good. But, you know, if you wanted to talk to her...Oh. She told me to tell you she wouldn't be bad again." Dean shrugged half-heartedly as if to say "well at least she's talking." Sam knew Dean well enough that he was really saying that Em needed him right now.

Sam nodded his head, understanding the message and knowing deep down that he needed to go set things right with his little girl. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "What should I tell her, Dean?" It was just another reminder for Dean that Sam couldn't do this parenting thing alone. Making all these decisions without his other half there to help...it was harder than he let on. And right now, he was at a loss for how to make things right again.

* * *

 _TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! I hope you are all doing well! This is the third and final chapter of this story. Please be sure to check out Chapter 2 if you haven't already. FanFiction was having technical issues when I posted it, and notifications did not go out to everyone, unfortunately. There's lots of drama in it, so you'll need to read it before this chapter!**

 **Thank you to Emma Winchester 424 for always being my cheerleader in writing and in life!**

 **Please let me know what you think of Emily. I have other short stories about her that I'm thinking of posting and I'm also working on a chapter fic for her with a bigger plot that I hope to post one day. So, let me know if you want more of Emily :)**

 **Read, Review, but most importantly, ENJOY!**

* * *

"What should I tell her, Dean?"

"Do what we always do, Sammy. Stick to the story. In my job as a cop, sometimes things can get rough, and...wait. How much TV do you let her watch? Does she even know what a gun is?"

Sam shrugged honestly. "I don't know. She doesn't watch a ton of TV, but I have no idea if she knows what a gun is or not...guessing by how she reacted with it, she's probably doesn't." He ran a hand down his face. "I have to talk to her about that." His expression showed how much he was already dreading the gun safety talk with his four year old.

"Do you...do you want me to...you know...help? Like...help you talk to her?" He wasn't sure what Sam's answer was going to be, since Dean was the one who got them into this mess in the first place.

Sam shifted his weight, knowing what he needed to do. "I think I need to check on her myself. I went pretty crazy earlier... and I need to fix that." He had to make things right first.

Dean just nodded his head- compared to their father, how he just scolded Emily was a walk in the park. But he knew Sam was also wracked with guilt, so he clapped Sam on the back with support.

Sam continued, "Maybe we should show her the gun, Dean. I've never talked gun safety with her or whatever...and today is probably a better time than any. We aren't going to show her the rest of your bag because I'm sure there's a freaking grenade in there, but I—I need to talk to her about the gun."

Dean looked affronted. "Do you honestly think I'd have a grenade in my bag?" Sam didn't even need to answer for Dean to know his response. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Gun only, unloaded. We don't really need to do knives- she said she knew not to touch the sharp stuff. Nice job there." He gave Sam an approving nod.

There was a special light behind his eyes at hearing the compliment. It was like confirmation that he was teaching his kid the right things and she was learning them how she should be. There was hope that she would learn about guns, too. "Okay, I'll be back." He gave Dean a nod and headed up the steps. He lightly tapped on the door before walking into his little girl's room.

Emily was sitting against the wall on her bed with her knees pulled up, a book resting on them to try and distract herself from the angry noises downstairs. Sam's heart melted at seeing his daughter "read" a book. Maybe he was doing okay with this parenting stuff in some ways after all.

He went over and took a seat on the edge of her bed. Emily's eyes showed a bit of fear, not knowing how her dad is going to react. Was he still angry? She closed the book and sat it beside her. She didn't speak as her blue eyes waited for him.

"Hey, peanut."

A small smile formed on her lips at hearing her special nickname. Maybe he wasn't as mad as before… She blurted out in one quick phrase, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I won't ever be bad again!" She scooted closer, wanting to be near him but not sure if he forgave her yet. "I told Uncle Dean to tell you that. Did he? That I'll never be bad again?"

Sam smiled at her persistence and his throat tightened at the same time when he saw the tear marks still lining her cheeks. "Yes, he told me." He held his arms out to her. "C'mere."

She didn't have to be told twice and rapidly scrambled onto his lap, leaning into his chest. "Don't be mad, please." Because he still hadn't told her that he wasn't mad and she couldn't accept it until he said it.

And Sam knew exactly what his daughter was searching for. "I'm not mad, peanut. Okay? I'm not mad." He cuddled her into his chest, just holding and rocking his baby girl for a moment. Hearing that he wasn't mad at her was all it took for her small body to relax into his. "But I am really sorry. I'm sorry because of the way I yelled at you. I got very scared, and I wasn't thinking straight." He leaned away so he could look her in the eye. "Can you please forgive me?"

She smiled that heart stopping smile he loved to much. The little girl replied with all the innocence in the world, like it was a given fact. "'Course. I always forgive you, Daddy."

His heart expanded at her words and her smile. He snuggled her in closer and kissed the top of her head. "Thanks, Em." He held her for another minute, hoping that this hug would make up the rest of his lame apology. After a moment, he leaned back and looked at her again. "Hey- let's go downstairs. We need to talk with Uncle Dean."

"Okay," she replied simply as she wrapped her arms around his neck, assuming he was going to carry her downstairs. He loved how cuddly she was right now. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, snuggling her as he walked down the stairs. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded her head into his shoulder instead of lifting it up before asking, "You okay, Daddy?"

He smiled. "I'm much better now."

Sam walked into the living room and took a seat on the couch. He tried to gently pry her off and sit her beside him, but he could feel her body resist, so he just placed her on his lap again.

Dean squirmed a bit. He was SO out of his league here. He cleared his throat. "Yeah...hi, Em. So, we should talk about what happened. So...how's it going?"

Emily didn't pick up on his awkwardness. "It's betterer. Daddy not mad and you not mad." She smiled like all her problems were solved.

Sam added, "That's right, but Uncle Dean and I still wanted to talk to you about the thing you pulled out of his bag. Do you know what it was?"

Emily shook her head. "I think it was on TV one time. What's its name?" She turned to Dean for an answer since it was his item.

Dean swallowed hard. "Well, kid...it's called a gun. Police officers use them for safety and protection." The next words felt like acid rolling off his tongue. "And I'm a police officer, remember?" He had hated the lie they'd agreed on (Dean, reluctantly), but the lie had seemed most fitting for her later years when she would start inquiring more.

Emily quickly nodded her head. Not only her but all of her pre-school friends knew about her cool cop uncle.

Sam gave Dean a subtle nod that he was doing okay before adding, "And guns are only for grown-ups and cops to use."

And like any curious four year old, the infamous question slipped past her lips, "How come?"

Sam took a deep breath before answering, "Because they can be dangerous if you don't know how to use it properly. You could hurt someone else or even yourself." He leaned in a little closer, as if asking in secret, "You don't want to hurt anyone, do you?"

The little girl shook her head hard from side to side, "I don't wanna hurt nobody!" She turned back to her uncle and asked with innocent eyes, "But hot come cops gots a gun if it hurt people, Uncle De?"

Dean took a deep breath. Leave it to the kid to ask all the hard questions. Damn she was good. "Because...sometimes cops need some extra protection. We don't want to hurt people, but sometimes people try to hurt us or other people. So I have a gun in case I need it. And I only use it when I need it." Never mind the fact that he really did need it just about every minute of every day...

Her curious side was still shining through. "Have you used it?" Sam's eyes went wide, begging Dean to sugar coat it so much that it wasn't even recognizable.

"Well..." Awkward throat clearing. "I...keep it close in case there may or may not be something...or someONE, not someTHING...that might or might not want to mess around with me. Or not. Next question?" he stumbled over every word, but kept his eyes fixed on Emily as he could practically feel the WTF vibe coming off of Sam right now.

Sam was throwing him a bitch face and then quickly cut in, hoping to do some damage control.  
"What Dean is trying to say is that sometimes there are some not so great people in the world who try to hurt others. So, cops and some grown-ups have guns to make sure that never happens."

"Bad guys never get us?"

Sam wrapped his arm protectively around her. "Right, the bad guys will NEVER get you, okay?"

Emily could see the determined look on his face and knew he was telling the truth. She nodded her head. "But if you are here to stop the bad guys from getting me, who's gonna help Uncle Dean?" She looked at him with some worry on her face that Dean didn't have anyone around to save him like she did her father.

Dean threw her a cocky grin. There was an unspoken tension behind the words that Emily wouldn't pick up on, but Sam would. "You don't need to worry about that, squirt. I'm fine. Your dad and I make a pretty good team when we're together. But he's needed here, so we learned to do things on our own. And he's really good at taking care of you. So that's where he's gotta be."

At hearing those words, Emily's body relaxed even more into her father's, if that were possible. Sam gave Dean a slight smile, enjoying the reassurance and love that he needed from his brother in that moment, even if he knew it still hurt Dean to be live separate lives.

Dean waited a moment as he poked her stomach playfully, before adding, "Okay, so in summary, you know not to touch a gun. Gun- no touchie. Nada. Got it?"

She nodded in understanding, but her little mind was still conflicted. "But how will I know what a gun looks like?" Because before she had it in her sight for like a minute before Dean ripped it from her grasp in the kitchen. Sam gave Dean a subtle nod, telling him it was okay for her to see it.

"Because...because I'm going to..." he saw Sam's nod, "...let you see a gun." He adds quickly, "But not hold. Or touch. Understood?"

She nodded her head, but then Dean's eyebrows rose slightly and she instinctively knew that he wanted her to say it. "I got it, Uncle De. Just SEE it." Sam gave Dean another nod to go ahead, trusting that his kid would be good.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. He crossed to his duffel in the kitchen and pulled his gun out, checking it three times to make sure it was unloaded. He turned around and slowly walked towards her. He stopped about five feet away and opened his hands to show her.

She narrowed her eyes like she was either concentrating really hard or squinting to see better, even though he was not that far away. "What does it do?"

Sam jumped in, "It's just to hurt bad people, remember?"

But that answer didn't satisfy her curiosity. "But HOW does it hurt bad people?" Her blues eyes stared expectantly at Dean.

"Because...because...hey, remember? I'm not smart. Your dad is. So he's gonna tell you." Dean flashed Sam his winning grin, happy to get the question off himself.

Cue the bitch face before Sam turned to his daughter and shifted a little as he tried to think how to approach this. Too much of the truth and he was his father. Too little or lies and he was really only making his daughter more naive in this world. He took a deep breath. "A gun has something called bullets. They're like this big," he showed her a small size with his thumb and index finger, "When you shoot them at bad people, it usually makes them stop. Does that make sense?"

She looked between the two of them and the gun, trying to process everything and much to Sam's shock and delight, she nodded her head, accepting the explanation. "Okay, Daddy I get it."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Good job, kid. See? You're smart just like your dad."

Her smile widened even more at hearing that and she looked up at her father. They shared this brief special moment, just the two of them. Typically, Dean would feel weirded out being there, but he was actually glad he got to witness the moment, seeing how close the two of them were and the undying love he held for her.

Finally, Emily pulled back and looked over at her uncle. "I'll never ever ever ever ever ever ever," it was obvious she was enjoying the repetition, "ever ever," huge breath, "EVER touch your big bag that's only for cops and grown-ups." She waited to see if he approved of her declaration.

"Well, good. 'Cause that's never the bag where I keep your presents." He made a big show of gasping. "Aw crap. Guess I let the secret out."

She immediately started to squirm at remembering the gift she never found. She looked around and spotted Dean's other bag resting against the end of the couch. She was about to jump down and run at it, but Sam's grip tightened on her, not letting her go just yet. He glanced at Dean and silently asked if it was okay she got in that bag, if he was 110% positive there wasn't even a remote possibility something was on there she shouldn't see.

Dean nodded back reassuringly. While Sam was upstairs with Emily, Dean meticulously went through both bags, making sure it was clear. His backpack was good to go.

After having confirmation, Sam let go and she was off him in a flash. She jumped over to his bag and started tearing through it, tossing clothes everywhere until she grabbed her gift. She pulled it out and stared at it in awe, then turned around, holding it up high and declaring, "IT'S A DINOSAUR!"

"Yeah, it is! Here..." And he was off the couch in a flash, kneeling down beside her, his excitement almost matching hers, "See? If you push this button, it roars. Push it." His eyes lit up with childish pleasure.

She pushed it gently and then a load ROAR comes out of the dinosaur. She squealed with excitement and pressed it again and again, roaring along with it. She ran over and held it up in Sam's face so it could roar and then rushed back to Dean, roaring as the dinosaur attacked his arm. Through clenched teeth, Sam said quietly, "I thought we said no more noise making toys, Dean."

"We said no more LOUD noise making toys, Sam," he countered, grinning at his brother, but then he turned to Emily, plucking the dinosaur out of her hands amidst her protests. He showed the back to Sam. "Look at the button." There's an on and an off option.

After Sam nodded, understanding the magical button that God put on all children's toys, Dean handed it back. "Yeah, Dad, look at the button!" She pressed it again and it roared. Then she took off, doing laps around the bottom floor as she roared along with her toy.

Sam commented, "Well, this should at least wear her out in time for bed." He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. "So how do you think that went?" he asked, referring to the serious conversation they just had.

"I think okay. I mean, I don't know. I've never had to convince a kid NOT to touch a gun." He grinned and said in a low voice so Emily couldn't hear, "I remember having to convince you TO touch a gun." Sam smirked at the memory. "I don't think she'll touch one again. You're doing good with her, man."

"Thanks, Dean." Emily took off upstairs to grab more stuffed animals because her new dinosaur needed friends. "I couldn't do this...any of this without you, man. So, um, thanks for everything."

"No problem, man. And when you're ready to train her on Latin Exorcisms, give me a buzz." He quickly added before Sam could blow his top. "I'm kidding."

Sam just shook his head and gave Dean a playful shove. "Not even funny."

Just then Emily came tearing down the steps with her dinosaur, a stuffed hippopotamus, and a Barbie doll. She put the dinosaur on the floor because that's her toy, and then held up the other two. "Let's play!" Dean and Sam shared a glance, knowing which toy they both wanted and even though the hippo was closer to Dean, Sam still tried to reach over and grab it.

Dean lunged towards the stuffed hippo, putting his open hand on Sam's face and shoving him away. He grabbed the hippo and muttered to his brother, "Sucker!"

She was completely oblivious to their squabble. She held out the Barbie for Sam who reluctantly grabbed it. "You get Sparkle Princess, Daddy. She's your favorite!"

Sam wanted to crawl in a hole and die from embarrassment right then and there. However, Emily was always one step ahead. She turned to Dean, "Don't worry, Uncle Dean, Daddy can share Sparkle Barbie with you next time so you get a turn."

Sam retorted through clenched teeth, "I guess we all can't be so lucky every time." He glared at Dean, even though he practically played with Barbies daily, he wasn't about to admit that in front of his macho brother. It was just something that came with the dad territory.

"You did very good, Uncle De. You didn't complain," she stated joyfully. It was an exact phrase that Sam had said to her on occasion when he'd praise her for not complaining about something she had to do. The things kids repeated, and _when_ they chose to do it…it would remain a mystery to him.

Dean reached out and patted her on the head. "I know, kid. I'm the best ever. So, I think I should get some pie in exchange for being so awesome."

Between fake roaring and attacking both the hippo and Barbie, she casually confessed, "Daddy put pie in the garage fridge so you don't find it."

"Emily!" Sam shouted in disbelief that she'd given up the information just like that.

However, she looked sweetly up at him. "It betterer to tell him so he don't go looking and find a dangerous gun." There was more roaring and attacking Sparkle Barbie.

And Dean jumped on that like a cat on a ball of string. "How right you are, kiddo. I think from now on, we shouldn't keep secrets. You know, to prevent dangerous situations. I think we've all learned a valuable lesson today. Now if you'll excuse me," he stood up, "I will be in the garage."

Sam pursed his lips, annoyed that he couldn't do anything about it. Once Dean disappeared into the garage, he turned to his daughter. "I thought we agreed to keep the pie a secret."

"Secrets bad, 'member?" And Sam was about to argue that point, but then he thought better of it. Maybe his kid thinking secrets were bad wasn't the worst idea after all. It might come in handy.

He relented, "You're right, peanut."

She continued to make the dinosaur fly through the air as she finally remembered another secret she had to confess. "Oh, Uncle De and I tie all your shoes together so you don't gotta do it." She looked up at him innocently and smiled, thinking she had really helped him.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and hollering out, "Dean!"

* * *

 _End._


End file.
